


"Allergies"

by they_hear_the_music



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Combeferre is so done, Enjolras the horrible patient, M/M, Pining, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-09
Updated: 2015-05-09
Packaged: 2018-03-29 19:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3907996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_hear_the_music/pseuds/they_hear_the_music
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is not sick. He might happen to cough a lot today, his nose is running, and his vision is slightly blurry but he is not sick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"Allergies"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesewersofparis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesewersofparis/gifts).



> My memefriend (and beta of this fic) got sick so i wrote her this. I hope guys you like it too!

Enjolras is not sick. He might happen to cough a lot today, his nose is running, and his vision is slightly blurry but he is not sick.

"It's just allergies," is what he tells Combeferre when he is greeted with a pointed stare in the morning after shuffling into the kitchen, almost falling over his own feet as he sits down at the small kitchen table, probably looking awful. He flinches a bit at how hoarse his voice sounds.

"You don't have allergies, Enjolras. You never had them and hopefully you never will – you are sick," his best friend observes, turning to make Enjolras a cup of tea, because even though he is wrong he is still the best friend ever. Enjolras glares at him anyway.

"I told you this would happen yesterday," Combeferre continues, apparently set on lecturing Enjolras. "You should have just taken the medicine before it got worse."

"Meds make me sleepy," Enjolras grumbles back using as little words as possible. Speaking hurts. He takes the tea from his best friend, inhaling the steam. "Needed to finish essay."

Combeferre heaves a long-suffering sigh, which is kind of hypocritical since less than four months ago Combeferre had been convinced that, yes, even with a freshly broken arm he could still do all the cleaning in the house like he usually did.

"Now will you at least take some medicine?" Combeferre asks, crossing his arms and looking at Enjolras like a parent would look at a disobedient child. Enjolras almost gives in. Almost.

"No!" He is aware that he indeed sounds like a cranky toddler so he clarifies. "I have things to do."

"With things, you don't by any chance mean bothering Grantaire in the library, do you?"

Enjolras feels his face getting even hotter than it already is due to the fever he most certainly doesn't have. "I'm not bothering him," he says and realizes too late that this is by no means a denial of Combeferre's accusation. "He says he likes studying with me. We're finally getting along," he adds in a small voice.

"Is that why you pushed yourself and finished your essay two days early? So you could hang out with Grantaire and help him _study_?" Combeferre says with half a smile, putting air quotes around the word “study”. "Courfeyrac would have so much fun with this information, you know that, right?"

Enjolras frowns. "You're being mean."

"Well, you're being stupid," Combeferre shoots back mercilessly. "You still haven't admitted to yourself that you're sick, have you?"

"I _am_ not sick, I have-" Enjolras insists only to interrupt himself in favor of a heavy coughing fit that shakes his whole body and leaves him hurting and exhausted. "-allergies," he finishes weakly. He knows that this fight is lost.

"You," says Combeferre, his voice allowing no objection, "are going back to bed."

Enjolras glares at him all the way out of the kitchen and into his room, his hands gripping the mug of tea tightly.

When he emerges again it's past noon and he is pretty sure he is at least partially high from the multitude of cough and flu medicine Combeferre has forced down his throat with the threat of calling Joly, because Grantaire is standing in his kitchen cutting vegetables. Something is simmering on the stove Enjolras can't make out, since his sense of smell has taken a leave of absence. Grantaire looks gorgeous like always, dark curls falling in his eyes. There is a stain of blue paint on his neck and he seems to be humming under his breath. _Well fuck._

Then Grantaire looks up and sees him, his blue eyes widening. For a moment he looks startled only for the familiar mocking grin to appear on his face.

"Hey, Ange," he greets with that horrible nickname, that Enjolras really does not have the energy to correct right now. He looks him up and down, reminding Enjolras that he is wearing Combeferre's firetruck pajama pants, a faded black shirts that says 'The government isn't the only thing going down tonight' - a gift from Courfeyrac - and a very fuzzy pink blanket that he has draped over his shoulders, also courtesy of Courfeyrac. "You look like hell," he says and Enjolras notices how he sounds more worried than mocking.

"I just got back," Enjolras replies, unable to stop himself, his voice a loud whisper. Apparently his vocal cords, too, are temporary out of order.

"Whoa there, Veronica, careful with your voice," Grantaire says with a grin, his brows still drawn together in worry. It would be cute – if large parts of Enjolras' brain weren't freaking out about Grantaire's presence in his kitchen.

"What are you doing here?" Enjolras can't help but ask after a beat, coughing a bit at the end of the sentence.

"Combeferre called me. He has lectures today and wanted someone to keep an eye on you. I'm making chicken soup."

Enjolras frowns, mentally marking down his best friend as a traitor. Grantaire apparently takes that for disapproval because he hurries to add: "I'm just gonna make sure you keep taking your medicine and eat something. You won't even notice I'm here. If you don't like the soup I can probably make something else-"

"'Taire!” Enjolras interrupts and coughs. “Thank you. It smells delicious." he says and smiles.

Is it still a lie if he honestly doesn't know whether he is right or not?

It's totally worth the brilliant smile he gets in return and maybe even the couple of butterflies that seem to have taken up residence behind his sternum.

He flees the kitchen in favor of building a miniature blanket fort on the couch and pressing his face in a pillow for a bit.

Reactions like this have been no unfamiliar occurrences in the last few weeks and at some point even he has to admit that he has developed a crush on the artist and when Grantaire had made one of his final projects of this semester about revolutionary art, more specifically Liberty Leading the People, Enjolras had offered his help whenever he "randomly" ran into Grantaire at the library. It has worked quite well so far, they now are both more comfortable around each other and their discussions and arguments are a lot less heated and Enjolras should be happy that they are better friends now, he really should, but he also wants to make out with Grantaire against various bookshelves and he does not see that happening after Grantaire is now acquainted with sweaty, sniffling, and coughing Enjolras.

Grantaire pops his head out of the kitchen. "Soup should be ready in about 10 minutes. You need to take your meds before that."

Enjolras nods.

"Should I bring them to you? And a glass of water? Or Tea?" He frowns. "People drink tea when they're sick, right? I'm gonna make you tea. Shit, I probably should have offered that a while ago. I'll be right back." And his head is gone, which is good since Enjolras is currently not capable to suppress whatever sappy expression his face wants to make.

When he comes out of the kitchen a few minutes later he is balancing a tray with a steaming mug and a variety of tiny bottles and pills on it. He puts them down on the coffee table then shoves his hands in his pockets seemingly unsure what to do with himself now. Enjolras hesitates for a moment, then he tugs on Grantaire's sleeve signaling him to sit down. Grantaire does and Enjolras directs his attention towards the tray. He melts a bit inside when he notices that Grantaire has made him a cup of his favorite tea. Thanks to Combeferre they own a large selection of teas and it is really quite remarkable that Grantaire has picked the one Enjolras loves. Combeferre probably told him.

 

Grantaire gets Enjolras to take all his medicine and then a bit later some soup into his stomach. Enjolras is vaguely aware that he is probably a horrible patient but the medication makes his head heavy, his throat still hurts, and he is pretty sure Grantaire's presence alone is making the fever worse. His assigned caretaker is apparently unbothered by his sarcasm and his unwillingness though and once they're finally done with the embarrassing charade of Grantaire-feeding-Enjolras-soup-while-the-latter-behaves-like-a-four-year-old-and-refuses-to-open-his-mouth, Enjolras tugs on Grantaire's sleeve again.

"Watch something with me," he whispers. It's not like he can produce sounds right now anyway.

Grantaire looks startled, but then he smiles. "Sure, mon ange."

Enjolras tries to make a displeased sound at that but ends up coughing instead. Grantaire's hand is on his back immediately, which is nice.

"What do you wanna see?" he asks after Enjolras' coughs calms down again.

"Lorax," Enjolras gets out.

"Oh my god, don't you have that memorized by now?" Grantaire exclaims in mock astonishment. "You literally propose that movie every movie night. Is it because of the Oncler?" His face lights up. "Oh, fuck, please tell me you have secret crush on the Oncler!"

Enjolras hits him with a pillow. Grantaire laughs.

Enjolras could let this go, but then he decides not to. "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not," he quotes. “It's an important message, 'Taire.”

For a second Grantaire's face twists into something Enjolras can't quite read then he's grinning again. "You're a moron," he says fondly and gets up to put the DVD in the player.

Enjolras is asleep five minutes into the movie.

 

When he wakes up its warm and for a second he assumes its because of the blanket that is draped over him. Then he realizes that the heat is coming from under him and said source of heat is Grantaire. He freezes up immediately. They are both more lying than sitting, Enjolras draped over Grantaire's chest, his face pressed into Grantaire's green hoody, on which, he is pretty sure, he _has drooled_ on at some point, and with his dignity lying in shards on the floor. He should move, he really should, but Grantaire has one arm casually slung around him and this just feels really nice and-

"I know that you're awake, Ange," Grantaire says above him, with a low chuckle in his voice. "It's alright if you wanna move."

Quite the opposite, but Enjolras is not about to point that out, so he gets up slowly, out of Grantaire's embrace, and wills his face to not be of a Marius-learning-that-Cosette-does-yoga shade of red. When he meets Grantaire's eyes, he sees the same unreadable expression again before he grins at him. Enjolras can tell that it's not a real smile, but before he can ask if everything's alright Grantaire speaks again. "Feeling a bit better?"

Enjolras nods. Physically he does feel better and he is not going to tell Grantaire about the tornado of emotions that has been Enjolras' last couple of weeks.

"Good…" The grin slides from his face, leaving a weak smile, that Enjolras wants to kiss away so badly he has to drop his gaze to stop himself from doing so.

"That's good," Grantaire continues weakly. "I should probably go. I mean, Combeferre should be here soon and-"

Enjolras reacts before he can stop himself, both hands grabbing fistfuls of Grantaire's hoody to keep him in place and Grantaire's face twists into something pained.

"Enjolras, please," he chokes out.

Enjolras shuffles out of his space and to the other and of the sofa as fast as possible. He is not breathing right, but that's certainly the least of his worries, because Grantaire knows. Grantaire knows and he's gonna reject him right here and now. Enjolras actually managed to make him uncomfortable with his stupid, stupid crush, so uncomfortable that Grantaire is going to have to draw a line. He feels sick. Looking at Grantaire seems impossible so he stares at his hands instead and tries very hard not to throw up, because if he does that now he might actually die.

"I'm sorry," Grantaire mumbles. He sounds miserable and defeated and Enjolras never wants to hear him sound like that ever again. "I really tried- But I can't. I-"

Enjolras makes an unhappy sound, resulting in him coughing again. He presses his hands on his mouth, not sure if he's trying to stop himself from emptying his stomach, coughing or crying.

"No, it's alright," Enjolras gets out, not caring how much it hurts to talk above a whisper. "I should be the one to apologize. I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." He's coughing again.

"No!" Grantaire sounds frantic, desperate. His hands twitch like he wants to reach out. "No, Enjolras, really – It's my stupid crush and I really want to be able to be your friend some day, but-" His voice breaks a little, as Enjolras head snaps up trying to comprehend what Grantaire is saying. "but stuff like cuddling needs to be off limits because I can't deal with it, I can't and- … What?"

Grantaire looks at him like Enjolras has gone crazy, which he probably has because this can't mean what he thinks it means. Also he has no idea what his face is doing.

"I kinda need you to take this seriously," Grantaire grumbles, brows drawn together at the same time Enjolras breathlessly almost-shouts: "You have a crush on me?!" actually flinching this time at how raising his voice hurt his throat.

"Yes. I thought you knew that," Grantaire says, slowly. He sounds angry, before his voice shifts to terrified. "Oh fuck, you didn't, did you? Of course you didn't you're basically blind to stuff like this." He lets out a hollow laugh. "And here I am, making things even weirder-"

Enjolras puts his hand over Grantaire's mouth.

"I did not know you had a crush on me," he says, not really thinking about the words, because his head is spinning. "If I had known I would have asked you out weeks ago."

Grantaire's eyes go wide at his words and Enjolras is pretty sure that he is grinning manically, but Grantaire doesn't seem to care, with his gaze fixed on him, incomprehension clear on his face. Enjolras can feel him open his mouth but he's not done yet, because Grantaire likes him back and right now nothing else seems to really matter.

"God, we could have been making out for weeks. Weeks, 'Taire! And Joly would probably murder me now if I kissed you and you got sick, do you see my dilemma?"

Grantaire frees his mouth only to get out a confused "What?"

Enjolras frowns. Or he tries to. He's still grinning pretty wide. "I'm doing everything all wrong, is this what Marius usually feels like?” He shudders at that. “What I'm meaning to say is: I really like you, will you go on a date with me?" He is shaken by another coughing fit, turning away from Grantaire, because really no one needs to catch this virus. "Once I stop doing this every five minutes," he adds once the worst of the coughing stops.

Grantaire still looks completely stricken. "You- what? I- obviously. Yes, of course. Sorry I'm-"

"Still processing? Yeah same." Enjolras lets out something close to a laugh, then he's coughing again. Grantaire is reaching for him, placing a hesitant hand on his back. It's nice. He's nice.

"I thought you didn't like me all that much," he whispers once he has calmed down a bit.

Grantaire makes a desperate sound at the back of his throat. "No, never - Enjolras, no. I-" He swallows and Enjolras does not follow the movements of his throat, he does not. "I really like you," he finally settles on.

Enjolras smiles. "I really like you, too."

Grantaire gives him a wide grin in return, still looking a bit like he cant't believe this is happening. Enjolras can relate. "Would it be okay if I kissed you?" Grantaire asks.

"Grantaire," Enjolras says slowly. "I probably have the flu or at least a very bad cold, I'm not wishing this on my worst enemy, I'm not going to infect you."

Grantaire rolls his eyes at that, with which they seem back on familiar terrain. "I literally could not care less."

"But I do," he tells him seriously, liking how Grantaire blushes at his words and tries to hide it by putting his face in his hands. "I care about you, 'Taire."

"Oh my god," His voice is muffled. "please tell me that I can at least cuddle you."

Enjolras is pretty sure he is going to pull a muscle from smiling so much in such a short period of time. "Cuddling is fine."

Grantaire carefully shuffles closer, his arm now circling Enjolras shoulders, but still barely touching until Enjolras lets out an impatient huff and climbs into Grantaire's lap.

"Is this okay?" he asks into Grantaire's chest, feeling the vibrations, when he answers.

"This is perfect."

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm assuming their date was basically one giant make out session. What losers.
> 
> If you want to, come and [say hi](http://they-hear-the-music.tumblr.com)  
> Thousend hugs go to my [beta](http://thesewersofparis.tumblr.com) (she is awesome you should definitely check her out)


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